In the End
by Amnesie
Summary: It takes place at the conclusion of the 60 days agreement. Pairings: McStizzie with some Addex and MerDer
1. Chapter 1

He needed a drink. Joe slid a scotch down the bar to him and he downed it quickly, motioning for another. It was going to be a long night.

He couldn't believe it. One day of celibacy was tribulation enough, but he'd gone an entire month. A month! And with what had to be the highest degree of irony, in the end, it wasn't even he who had broken the deal. He had spent his whole life running away from the possibility that he would have to expose himself, to give his vulnerable heart to another person's keeping, and right when he was on the brink of doing so, she'd pulled away. She obviously didn't want it. Didn't want him for any of the parts of him that really made him who he was. In the end, neither he nor Derek had been enough. Maybe it was his own fault, maybe it was hers; but it was the state of reality.

What he couldn't figure out, though, was whether or not he was going to miss her. The sex, yeah. It was what had first made him keep going back for more. The way she looked at him, yeah. She'd made him feel like he was something special. Sure she was pissed off at him most of the time, but there was that fiery energy there. But, curiously, one of the things that he would miss the most was her smell. Everything about her was spicy. He would have sworn that one night he had actually tasted ginger on the curve of her neck.

Yet, deep down, he had known when he'd made the bet that it was a risky proposition. The whole celibacy thing being daunting to him, obviously. But he'd known that Addison had an interest elsewhere. Why else would Karev have given up plastics to go consort daily with the drama that was obstetrics? He'd known. That was why he had told her she had to suffer if he did. It had been a hopeless deal, but he'd given it his all anyway. Why? Why bother with it? And why didn't it hurt as much as he would have expected now that she'd broken it?

He sipped the refill of scotch that Joe had put in front of him and glanced down to the other end of the bar. An attractive blonde sat on the last stool nursing a whiskey, staring blankly at a group of people across from her. He would have pegged her for a fruity drink type of woman, as the blondes he knew usually were, but this one was different. She looked as if she'd lost her best friend.

He contemplated going over to her. The memory of a month's worth of celibacy burned in his brain. She wasn't Addison, but maybe it had just been the idea of her that had kept him going. The idea that there was a woman out there who could sincerely know the real him and thought that maybe, just maybe, there was the possibility that he could be the one for her in the end.

He picked up his drink and moved to sit on the stool next the blonde. His eyes traveled down her body and he got a whiff of jasmine when she turned to look at him. He flashed his mischievous smile at her and was prepared to deliver his opening line when she cut him off.

"Don't even think about it. I'm not that kind of girl and I refuse to be. I date. I'm a dater."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you're straightforward too."

Running his eyes over her once again, he stopped and thought. Why not? He'd never tried it before. He was a risk taker. And he'd always been a sucker for jasmine.

"I can date. I can do many things, many of which I am sure you will come to appreciate. My abilities are never in question. So I _can_ date."

It was her turn to give him a curious glance.

"Okay then. Lunch. Tomorrow." She finished off her drink and hopped off her bar stool, grabbing her bag in the process.

"Where should I pick you up?"

She stopped and put her hand on his back as she passed him on her way to the door.

"Seattle Grace Hospital.. Think you can find it?"

He grinned as he watched her walk away.

"I'll manage, Stevens. I'll manage".

He'd always liked jasmine more than ginger in the end.


	2. Chapter 2

-1It was George's fault. In the end that's whose fault it was. He'd gone and run off to Vegas with Callie and had left her in this mess. He'd done something that was _not _George-like. It was impetuous and emotional and it was Meredith-like. Not George-like. George was reliable and stable. He wasn't one who would leave her emotionally adrift and feeling as if everyone else was moving forward and she was just stuck in place. Or at least the old George wouldn't have. The new one didn't seem to care that she had to drown her sorrows in whiskey at the bar and get almost picked up by Mark Sloan. And speaking of which… she hadn't seen _him_ all day. She was avoiding him. Or she would have been if she hadn't heard one of the nurses saying it was his day off.

Her spirits had risen, hoping that he would just forget about the conversation they'd had last night and blow her off as he would any other woman who wanted anything more than sex. Not that she wanted more. She didn't want anything from him. Not even lunch. And so when she saw his masculine figure entering the lobby doors, she knew fate was playing merciless tricks on her. She quickly swung the other way, bending over to study the chart on the counter, hoping he'd walk right past her.

But it was useless. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he came up behind her.

"This is all George's fault," she muttered, moving closer to the counter and further from him.

He smirked. "Remind me to send him a bottle of something in thanks. Does he like scotch? It's always been my favorite. Helps me get lucky".

She turned around and stared boldly into his eyes. "Didn't help you last night, did it?"

He chuckled slyly and held up the plastic bags he was carrying. "Say, have you seen my lunch date, Stevens? Hot. Blonde. Happy to see me?"

"Nope, can't say there's anyone like that here". She hoped he would take the hint and leave, but he'd evidently come prepared for her to fight him and she stopped to hear him out.

Mark felt the slight blow her words brought, but ignored it and once again motioned to the bags in his hand. "Whether you like it or not, Stevens, we had a date. And look, I brought you food so that our date isn't ruined by atrocious hospital food. Not knowing what you liked, I brought Italian _and_ Chinese. So not only can I date"- he leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear- "I'm considerate".

She shivered at the contact of his breath against her ear and stepped back to look up into his eyes, whish was a bad idea considering the rapid pace of her heart. "You can show up at a certain time and bring food with you. You're the equivalent of a pizza boy."

While he actually was being sincere for once in his words, he couldn't help but appreciate her fieriness. "You know, Stevens, the last woman who underestimated me ended up nak-"

"-half-naked with Alex in the on-call room which we were both entering. I remember." She remembered all too well. Even Addison, the flawed and damaged surgeon whom she really did admire, had been able to overcome her pain and move on- with Alex, of all people, who had once looked at _her _with passion even if he didn't any longer.

Sloan nodded in acknowledgment of the truth, but he was not going to let Addison get him down any longer. Not when he had another prospect in sight, one who hadn't had the chance to hurt him yet and captivated him with the cheerful façade she put up and the passionate energy within her.

He grabbed her hand. "Stevens, you're hot and our lunch is getting cold. Come on".

And with that he pulled her off towards the courtyard and she acquiesced, but didn't know why. Maybe it was because, in the end, stability was overrated and her heart was tender. If George could act with spontaneity, if Alex could heal his own wounds and give himself to another, she might as well try. Life couldn't just pass her by.


	3. Chapter 3

Mark Sloan could be an enjoyable lunch companion... when he was keeping his hands off her thighs. Which he seriously had to do in order for them to be in the same vicinity. She'd enjoyed their lunch. She'd smiled and laughed and felt younger than her days. Her skin had tingled at times and her heart had skipped beats... and it had nothing to do with her love of pasta primavera.

He could be charming, but that was obvious. He was extraordinarily attractive; but even he knew that. And yet, there was something about _him_, the real one, not the persona he presented, that was distinctive and… incomparable. Every time he flashed her his trademark smile, another part of her began to say he was worth the risk. And that was exactly why she wasn't going to take it.

At the end of their lunch, he'd given her the "I'll call you" line, which was ridiculous considering he'd see her at work the next day anyway, but had still caused the beginnings of a smile to form on her face. She knew that the line was one of those that guys just threw around and had accepted that their lunch and, in effect, their relationship was over. She'd been bold and taken the steps to overcome the emotional rut she was in and a pleasant lunch had resulted in the end.

And she'd misjudged him. Picking up her ringing phone the night of their lunch, she'd been stunned to hear his throaty laugh on the other side. She'd underestimated him and the last woman to do that… well, she knew where their relationship had gone. She'd played along, in fact was an active participant in their date, but when her bruised heart was in question the only practical answer was an end.

How she ended up in a supply closet with him, she'd never know.

* * *

"You've been avoiding me, Stevens." Her breathing hitched and she detested his hot breath against her neck only because she loved it so.

"I have not. Some of us have serious work to do and can't spend their time in darkened supply closets. Hard to imagine, isn't it?"

He grinned and gazed down into her eyes. "Well I'm glad to know you haven't been in any without me then."

"Dr. Sloan…"

"Mark." He stopped and brush her bangs out of her eyes, his hand trailing down her neck. "I figure if we're doing this dating thing you can call me that."

"About that…." She started to speak, but stopped, unsure of what she was trying to say and whether or not it matched what she felt.

"No first names? Well I guess I would answer to Sexy, but only if I get to call you Babe".

He could sense where she was going with the conversation, but wasn't going to give her the chance.

"Tomorrow. The bar. Seven o'clock. You can sit on your stool and I'll sit on mine and we'll pretend we're two people who know nothing about each other except that there's this thing between us." He leaned in closer and she could inhale the smell of his masculine cologne and almost feel the heat radiating off of him. And just when she thought she might not come out of the supply closet alive, he suddenly backed away.

"I want you, but we'll play it your way, Stevens. If you want to go slow and steady that's fine by me; you'll enjoy it and I will too." He ran his eyes over her and, upon meeting her own again, they seemed to burn with fervor. "See you tomorrow, Babe."

He left her alone in the shadowy room and she sunk down to the floor. Her heart thudded in her chest and her palms felt sweaty with exhilaration. Her thoughts went a mile a minute in a million different directions. She wanted to hide and she wanted to let out a smile. She wanted to run- but from him or to him she couldn't tell. And while it seemed he may be the death of her in the end, in that instance he had her feeling more alive than ever.


	4. Chapter 4

Leaving the supply closet, he didn't know what had just happened. Sure, it may have seemed as if he'd had complete control of the situation, but he knew the opposite was true. He'd felt that she was about to pull away and it had scared him. _That _wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be terrified of someone wanting to cling to him. He was supposed to feel suffocated at the thought of being bound to someone, not at the thought of cutting the ties that bound them. It was a foreign thought, but he'd found that he'd been having a lot of those lately- all relating to her.

He'd always loved the touch of a woman against his skin, but only rarely had one ever been able to touch his heart. Addison had been able to- and she'd used him; they'd used each other. It wasn't a great precedent for things to come. And as much as he told himself that he was playing with fire, he didn't want to pull away. He was Mark Sloan. He didn't run from anything, especially passion. He was an aggressor and she was an enigma. It was a match that had to be decided, a game that had to be played out, even if the rewards hadn't been decided yet.

He figured it was simply the chase that had him so enamored. She held the distinction of being the only one of Bailey's interns that hadn't fooled around with a superior. He would gladly initiate her into the world of forbidden affairs if only she'd acquiesce, but she was determined not to. She claimed she wasn't _that_ girl. Admittedly, he'd been not so secretly trying for months to get her to change her mind and it was to no avail. But instead of going out and finding another luscious blonde with a gorgeous body, he'd settled for a date. A date! He might as well have jumped off a bridge for all of the futility that was to result from that idea in the end.

That wasn't to say he hadn't enjoyed himself. Her conversation had been witty, her laugh endearing, and the expression she made while she was entertained adorable. Her smile had been warm and it almost, _almost_, felt as if it had heated the frigidity of his heart. He had a feeling she wasn't as opposed to him as she feigned to be. And now they had a second date… at his proposal. _That_ was a scary thought.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but grin as the door to the supply closet opened and a harried-looking Izzie Stevens rushed out, heading in his direction. His grin grew wider, anticipating the moments to come. Yet upon seeing him, or perhaps the mischievous look on his face, she turned and headed the other way. He chuckled, amused at her reaction to him, until he heard a woman's voice behind him.

"Did you sleep with Izzie?"

Whirling around to see who had noticed their impromptu rendezvous and asked the offending question, he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh is that what those supply closets are for? You and Derek must lead an exciting sex life, Grey."

Meredith didn't look amused. "Okay, I get it. You're smooth, you're charming, you're McSteamy. Now answer me."

He smiled. "Not that it's any of your business, Mere, but I can't say I did. But if it's what you really want, I'll let you know when you should be jealous."

Meredith looked up at him with penetrating eyes. "I don't want my friend to get hurt again. Surely even you can understand that." And the truth was, he did. He realized that he sincerely cared about how Izzie Stevens felt. It was another scary proposition in what seemed to be a never-ending onslaught of realization.

His expression sobered. "I get it, Meredith. And I'm on your side." He paused for a moment before harshly speaking again. "You're not the only one who can try to give us Dirty Mistresses a degree of validation."

And with that he left the intern standing alone in the hallway confused. It was an emotion he knew well. Seldom had he put so much consideration into his own actions, let alone his own feelings. He was a man, and in his mind, men only needed a few things from life. They surely didn't need bewilderment and indecision. He didn't. But there was the slightest possibility he might need Izzie Stevens-- so expending the emotional energy could be worth it in the end.


	5. Chapter 5

The bar was crowded when she entered. He'd said seven, so she arrived at a quarter 'til, hoping she'd be the first one there and that she'd have time to get her bearings. She would be waiting for him and he'd be in the awkward position of having to approach _her_. Or, conversely, she'd have an extra few minutes to become a rational woman and quickly leave before he showed up.

She should have learned the first time not to underestimate him. Through the throng of people, she spotted his muscular figure perched on the bar stool he'd claimed was his. Even though his back was to her, he looked solid and bronzed and appealing. She slowly approached him, her nerves quivering a little inside her body. She couldn't fully see him due to all of the patrons in the bar, but as she grew closer she did notice one significant detail. _Her_ bar stool wasn't empty.

His naughty laugh, accompanied by a feminine chuckle, was suddenly echoing through the room, the only thing she could hear. Stepping around the last few people separating them, she could make out a gorgeous redhead in her place. Addison Montgomery.

She suddenly felt very foolish. He'd said that they would do things her way, but she now felt like a diversion in Mark Sloan's easygoing life. She'd been a victim of his magnetism and knew that in competition with Addison, she could never really compete for his devotion, had she determined that was what she had ultimately wanted. She slowly backed up, hoping to leave without being noticed, but it was of no use. The other woman had spotted her and smiled over Sloan's shoulder in her direction, which made him turn around. His eyes sparked with something unusual, something she couldn't name.

She narrowed her eyes in his direction and spun around. She was better than a plaything for his amusement, no matter how attentive and benevolent he'd revealed he could be. She'd known his reputation and she might have given in to him a few times, let him win a few small battles, but she was Izzie Stevens and she didn't need a player. She was better than that.

* * *

At seeing her twirl the opposite direction, he was bewildered. He'd gotten to the bar early, pathetically anticipating their date. He knew she must have been looking forward to it as well, because she'd shown up dressed to kill. Her sensuality might well have done him in, if she'd stuck around. He couldn't explain her actions and turned to Addison hoping she could enlighten him. 

The look on her face told her she'd understood.

"So… I'm guessing that was your date."

He nodded, lost. "Mind telling me what just happened?"

She grinned mischievously. "I think Dr. Stevens might have mistaken our sitting here as something more."

He wanted to slap himself. "Of course. You're in her seat. I promised her that stool."

If Addison thought that statement weird, she kept it to herself. "So are you going to just sit there or go after her and let my date have your seat?"

He didn't need to be asked twice. An approaching Alex took his vacated stool and looked at her questioningly. She smiled tenderly and took his hand into hers. He rubbed his calloused thumb over her knuckles and used his other hand to move a lock of hair from before her eyes. Her smile grew and she had to chuckled aloud.

"I think little Mark is finally growing up."

* * *

"Stevens, wait!" 

He found her pacing up and down the sidewalk just up from the bar.

She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him. "Dr. Sloan, I don't think I can do this right now. I thought that maybe we had this thing, but I think I was wrong. I was wrong. I can admit it. I assumed and it's my own fault-"

He cut her off. "Stevens… Izzie… the only thing you incorrectly assumed was that there was something going on between Addison and I. There's not. In fact, if you'd been there a minute later you would have seen Karev. She was waiting for him-- like I was waiting for you. I don't claim to be an expert at commitment, but I'm giving it an attempt. For you. So stop babbling and come with me." He grinned roguishly. "You owe me a date and our night's just getting started."

She wanted to give in, but she was afraid of the consequences of letting him win another battle. "What about that look in your eyes? It was… weird."

He laughed wickedly. It _had_ been a bizarre expression, but only because of the feeling running through his veins that it had echoed. He'd been unequivocally delighted to see her, but she didn't need to know that.

"It's called lust, Stevens. Stick with me and you'll become very familiar with the feeling." He leaned down to whisper faintly in her ear and his presence so close sent shudders coursing through her. "And maybe, babe, if you're a good girl, we'll act on it."

He straightened and put his arm around her shoulders, leading her in the direction from which they had come. Chasing women wasn't unusual for him, but chasing one that mattered was. He was pleased with himself for being able to overcome the first obstacle sent their way. She sighed and leaned into his figure, allowing him to guide her. Maybe she'd been looking for a reason to reject him or maybe she wasn't able to fully trust him yet, but in this night he'd been able to earn a piece of her heart. She didn't need to surrender for him to win the battle, he'd been triumphant, in the end, all on his own.


	6. Chapter 6

"I can't believe you! McDreamy lets Meredith in on his surgeries. Oh and we all know about Dr. Burke and Christina!" Her eyes flickered with annoyance as she gazed up at him while he wait for the elevator.

He groaned. "Please don't call him that when speaking to me." Pausing, he tried to find the words to explain himself to her. "Stevens, I have to let Karev assist. He was there."

He couldn't understand why she was so adamant about joining him in the surgery. It wasn't even one of those once in a lifetime cases. Instead, she should be pleased that he was trying to remain professional. Heck, he was even trying to be nice to her friends! She should be satisfied by the effort he was making for her. He wasn't treating her like a silly intern, but he also wasn't giving her any special favors. Maybe he'd been wrong, but he'd thought she would have wanted their professional relationship to remain above reproach.

And evidently, he _had _been mistaken.

"Fine," she spat, "have it your way."

She strode off, leaving him with the feeling that he was going to regret their encounter. That infuriated him and his state of confusion only made it worse. He scowled as the elevator dinged open and he was met by the two occupants he'd be joining. Derek and O'Malley. His ex-best friend and her current one. Both probably knew about his relationship with her by now, but neither had specifically told him they approved. His scowl deepened as he stepped into the confined space. Quickly shooting each man a piercing glare, he turned his back to them. Though his relationship with Shepherd was improving, it was still tenuous. And he and O'Malley had never been anything more than acquaintances; the younger man always seemed to be unnerved around him.

An uncomfortable silence dominated the space. He was glowering, disturbed that a small tiff with Izzie Stevens could escalate to monumental importance in his mind. To make it worse, he had no idea how to fix it. Apologizing was an unknown to him. He just didn't do it. He had always endeavored to live his life without regrets. He apologized to no one. Except for a specific blonde intern, it seemed.

The tension he felt must have been radiating from him, because he heard a male voice address him from behind.

"In my experience, you can't go wrong with chocolate."

He didn't want to turn around, knowing the amused smirk he'd see on the Shepherd's face.

"She… um.. likes donuts. Donuts are good. I mean, if you…" O'Malley's statement faltered, but Sloan nodded.

He hesitantly glanced back at the pair. George was looking anywhere but directly at him, but Derek was giving him an encouraging smile.

The swift camaraderie they'd just experienced was abnormal, so he said the only thing he could think of.

"Thanks."

* * *

Twilight had fallen by the time she arrived home from the hospital. It had been a long, grueling day, which was only accentuated by the quarrel she'd had with Mark. It really wasn't his fault. He was giving their relationship a lot of effort, and sometimes, she had to admit, was contributing more to it than she. They'd been doing the dating thing for a couple of weeks and he'd been nothing but thoughtful, while she'd acted like a bitch. Considering that she still hadn't given in to the lust he persistently spoke of, she owed him a lot of credit. He'd treated her like a lady, while she'd considered him a rogue. It was against her nature to be so cynical, especially to someone who'd proved himself undeserving of it. 

Walking up the footpath to the front entrance of the house, her contemplations were interrupted by the darkened presence on the front step. He was sitting hunched over, looking irresistible in his dark jeans and leather blazer. His gaze traveled up her body as he noticed her and she could see the illumination in his eyes, even in the dusky night.

He stood and uncomfortably cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was husky and low. "I was waiting for you. Stevens, about earlier, I realize I should have-"

She cut him off. "Don't… Mark. It was petty and self-centered... of me."

He visibly relaxed, thinking that this apologizing thing was easier than he had conceived.

"Why didn't you go inside the house? Meredith must be home."

Grinning, he put his arm around her waist. "Exactly why I didn't. Would you want to be alone in there with Grey and Shepherd?"

She smiled back at him. "Good thinking. They'd probably be…"

"All over each other." He finished her sentence for her and looked wickedly down into her eyes. "Normally I'm all in favor of amorous activities, but not when I'm not getting any."

She shook her head at his playfulness. He was an alluring man.

He abruptly remembered why he had come and motioned over towards the porch. A pink box lay sitting near the door next to two Styrofoam cups. He felt like a bashful youth admitting, "I brought you donuts. And coffee."

Her face lit up. "Donuts? My favorite!"

Pleased by her delight, he confessed, "O'Malley told me."

She gasped. "George did? But he.. we…" Her heart soared at this bit of insight. Her relationship with George had been shattered due to his marriage with Callie. She had done what she'd felt was her part and apologized, but he hadn't wanted it. He had shown her that he no longer wanted any part of her.

However, Sloan wasn't about to let O'Malley get all of the credit for his accomplishment. "I thought of the coffee."

She looked up into his eyes and her expression transformed from jovial to serious. She ran her fingers along the side of his face, his warm skin heating her cool hand. He appeared so earnest and proud of himself and she knew undeniably that he was something exceptional. The sinful heat from his gaze burned into her own and she could feel her body tremble. Grabbing his hand she began to pull him towards the front door, bypassing the gifts he'd brought.

"You're still going to respect me in the morning." It _wasn't_ a question.

He smirked. "You got that right, Stevens." His eyes trailed over her.

He'd respect her; because in the end, he had no other possible choice.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: I just want to sincerely thank everyone who has shown their support. I can't tell you how much it means to me. I know I've said that it was done before, but now the fic is officially finished. I can move on to other things and not be anxious about where I'm taking this one. :)

* * *

"Well isn't this cozy?" 

Looking over Izzie's shoulder as they staggered drowsily down the stairs together, he observed Meredith sitting on the lap of her favorite neurosurgeon as the pair fed each other pieces of a muffin for breakfast.

Dryly he remarked, "Shepherd, you've gone past whipped and right into enslaved."

Izzie laughed and squeezed the hand which currently held her own. She lead him over to the kitchen table and pushed him into a seat, courteously taking for herself the one right next to him as to not imitate the other pair.

"It's Meredith and McDr… Derek and their McLife. I think it's cute. It's very cute," she commented, smiling warmly and directing her final comment to the couple.

Shepherd grinned. "It's McFabulous." Looking back at Meredith for approval, he saw her slowly shake her head.

"No, I liked the other one better."

"Okay, then, it's McWonderful."

Sloan shook his head and was about to let out a clever remark concerning the disgrace they'd fallen into, when the front door banged shut and Christina walked into the room, the pink box of donuts from the previous night opened in her hands

"Whose doughnuts? They look stale, and yet… is it weird that I want to eat them?"

Izzie's gaze slid Mark's direction. "Mine. All mine. Have a muffin instead."

* * *

He had never planned to stay in Seattle for long. He'd wanted to simply appear, convince Addison to come back to New York with him, and then continue living his customary life. But now, he could hardly conceive all that he would have lost had he done just that. He would have missed the prospect of potentially being chief at a hospital of people whom he respected and actually enjoyed. He would have let pass the opportunity to make amends with Derek, the brother of his heart with whom he was making real progress. And as much as he hated it, he would have missed the rain, if only because it made such an excellent reason to stay in bed with _her. _

Yawning lethargically, she thought she could just curl into his muscular body forever. It felt so satisfying that she would have sworn it was a guilty pleasure, if only she felt guilty about it. She'd been damaged so badly in the past and had reached her breaking point and had gone beyond it. She remembered lying on the bathroom floor and she could recall baking marathons starting at daybreak and not ending until the next first light. She'd heard her best friend announce he'd gotten married and seen her ex-fling move on, while she was stuck, dying for a retrieve from the pain. And now she felt as if she had no wounds. Lying snug with him in her bed felt like a surreal form of escapism, yet it was her reality.

He leaned down to gently nip at ear and she whimpered in pleasure. Starting a lazy trail of warm, wet kisses down the side of her neck he became more aroused at her every moan. Her hands reached around his torso to grab at his heated skin, rolling him down on top of her. His strong fingers caressed every inch of her lean body as he once again claimed her as his own with his.

Afterward, as they lay sated underneath the cool sheets with the rain pounding an enchanting rhythm about them, he squeezed her closer to him. He breathed in the jasmine of her hair and broke their comfortable silence with a certainty he had just realized; the truth as he saw it.

"Stevens, you're going to marry me one day."

Startled, she looked over to meet his determined gaze.

Knowing he'd given her a shock, he admitted, "Not now; we're not ready. Truthfully the whole idea is scaring the hell out of me." He paused but confessed, "although I can just feel it."

She remained quiet. He looked hesitantly down into her eyes, fearing her response. But his worry proved needless.

"I might be willing… after we've been dating for more than a month that is."

He smirked. "Right. After all, we still have to celebrate all of the major holidays."

She grinned, thinking of the events to come. Teasingly, she said, "yeah, you might forget to buy me a Christmas gift."

He looked wounded. "But if all you need is me under the tree, you don't really need one do you?"

She laughed at his mischievousness. "No, I'm seriously putting you through the torture of having to pick out a present."

He groaned, but quickly overcame his distress. "Stevens, if you're making me play Santa, I get to make the rules. And this old man only gives gifts to naughty girls."

He winked as she burst out laughing. "I'll try my hardest to meet your qualifications."

He grinned and pulled her tight. "You already do. Together, you and I, we could have a good McLife." Halting, he frowned. "No, I did not just say that."

She beamed. "You did… and I agree."

* * *

In the end, it was right. He was the sly scoundrel who'd warmed her heart with his aching vulnerability and had demonstrated himself to be capable of being a steady, loving strength for a fellow lost soul. She was the wounded beauty who had shown him that love was not a unattainable goal through her openness, spirit, and warm sincerity. A seemingly unlikely pair, they'd found completion, in the end, in each other. 


End file.
